Madelyn wrapped up her dinner swiftly and made her way upstairs. She couldn’t afford any distractions now. With exams just around the corner in less than ten days, she needed to be on top of her game, even if she had already secured her spot at Ventropolis College of Art.

A slip-up on this test wasn’t an option. By 11:30 PM, having committed a series of Etlinish phrases to memory, she set her book aside. She was about to switch off the lights and sink into sleep when her cat leaped onto the bed, making itself comfortable by her pillow, its paws kneading rhythmically.

Leaving a soft glow from the bedside lamp, Madelyn stroked its fur. “Even all grown up, you still bake cookies. Goodnight, Ginger.”

As she settled in with her eyes shut and hands tucked under her chin, sleep took her swiftly. It was half-past two when Ethan got back.

Upon noticing the small wound on Ethan’s lip, the servant knitted her eyebrow. “Mr. Arnold,” she began, recognizing the type of wound and drawing from past experiences.

Earlier in the day, Ethan had been just fine. Now, his lips told a different story, and it wasn’t hard to guess why.

he asked.

flashed in

nine. She had dinner and went upstairs to rest.

you.” Ethan’s face remained expressionless as he headed upstairs. “If

servant’s eyes followed Ethan’s departing form, thoughts racing. ‘Did he and Miss Jent have another spat? He seemed just fine

kissed the hilltops, heralding a

I won’t be home for dinner. If Ethan returns, please pass on the message. If he gets tied up at

it in a tissue. The servant

any to spare. In the days that followed, Madelyn hardly caught a glimpse of Ethan in the Arnold home. More often than not, she

by the sight of Ethan on the couch, a cigarette between his

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